Writing Crazy

I thought I would share my most recent scene with you. My slightly off elf. It’s a short scene but I think it gives us a lot of insight into her.


Did you even brush your hair today Laia? And where are you shoes?”
“Shoes are overrated. You cannot feel the colors with shoes on.”
“You should have shoes.”
“This coming from someone who’s feet don’t even touch the floor.”
Laia rambled around the library pushing chairs back into their spots and picking up books that never got put away. The spirit of the keeper watched her with interest.
“You could help a little.” Laia huffed.
“You know that it takes a lot of energy for me to manipulate things in the physical world.” The keeper replied.
“So you’re just going to stand there and watch me clean up the library.”
“There are keepers to do that.”
“They do it wrong.” Laia remarked as she pulled a book from a nearby shelf. “Look at this. They put a book on forging armor with the trade crafts.”
“Forging would be a trade craft.”
Laia scowled at the spirit. “Making armor is an art.” She marched down the aisle turning a corner and squeezing the book into a space next to a book about metal sculpting. “And they keep putting loud books next to the quiet ones. Flower books do not want some loud mouth war book disturbing them.”
The spirit floated into the aisle behind. “I will be going.”
Laia stuck her tongue out at him. “If you must.”
“It takes energy for me to be here.”
“Why do you even bother if it’s so hard?”
She thought the spirit sighed, but that would be impossible. “You know why I am here. Or, maybe you don’t. It is hard to keep track of what you remember and what you do not.”
Laia shrugged as she pushed a couple of chairs back into place.
“Or what you want to remember and what you don’t. I was here for you, I still am. I am now also here for Keysa.”
“Keysa with the cat.”
“Yes, Keysa with the cat.”
Silence followed as Laia continued up the aisle running her fingers over the spines along one shelf. The spirit slowly faded out and was gone.
Laia poked her finger at a candle stand making it wobble back and forth on its wrought iron legs. “And why do you think they let her and that cat tromp all over the tower complex?”
She moved on before the candles settled back into place. “I have no idea. What is so special about her that she can do whatever she wants.”
Laia continued to grumble under her breath as she pulled a book out, blew the dust off of it and slipped it back into its home. “I am so sorry about how dirty you have gotten. The dust really is quite careless about where it gathers. I agree, a little consideration would go a long way.” She turned back to the candle stand. “Well, yes, she did help me in the hallway with my stones and that terrible man. That does not give her the right to do what she likes.”
Laia stopped next to a table and grinned. Without looking down held her hand out, palm facing the floor, her fingers giving a little wiggle. A little rattling noise filled the empty quiet then a pencil rolled from under the table to bump into her toe. “You are getting better, but I still found you. Hide and seek again tomorrow.”
Her palm still facing the floor she spread the fingers out and the pencil lifted from the floor into her hand. She slipped the pencil into a pocket into her robe and continued on through the library. Tucking chairs under the tables, saying goodnight to each one, replacing books to the shelves and retrieving various objects from the floor discarded by the library visitors. Laia smiled again to herself as she swiped a piece of parchment up from one of the tables and without looking at it stuffed it into her robe. The things others wrote down and then left were always so interesting. She had discovered many things in the books only because someone had jotted down notes.
Laia’s trek through the library finally brought her to the back wall in which was set an alcove. To each side was a spiral staircase going up to the mezzanine level. The one on the right had the screaming books, the one on the left the whisper books. Laia took the one on the left. The steps here were used so little they were covered in a fine layer of dust. She stepped carefully, and her bare feet left no tracks as she ascended. Halfway up she felt a strange tingle over her skin that she had only recently discovered was a protection barrier to keep others out of this particular section. She stepped on to the balcony floor and looked around the small area. Lined with only three bookshelves, each only slightly taller than she was and one small, round table in the middle. The barrier must keep out dust as well because there was very little of it here, which was just fine for her. It was such unruly stuff.
“It is good to see you are keeping your room clean.” She addressed the nearest bookshelf as she ran her fingers over a shelf, making sure the spines were aligned evenly. She moved to stand in front of the middle shelf, hands clasped behind her back, fingers entwined but fidgeting.
“I do like it here with the quiet books. You who whisper of things no one has heard in a thousand moons.”
She went to the third and last bookshelf in the room and looked over the books. Running her fingers over each spine on the top shelf, then the second and stopping near the end. Her finger lightly stroked up and down the spine of a green volume. She pulled the book from the shelf pulled a chair out from the table and sat on the floor. Crossing her legs and placing the book on the floor in front of her she closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the pages. “Tell me your stories.”

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